Theater: The Fresh (Pink) Princesses of Canada

Anyone who has ever attended freshman orientation at a liberal arts school will immediately recognize the sincerity and do-gooder spirit of Canadian import Bash’d—though only the most violently liberal of schools would have featured anything approaching the level of vulgarity found in Chris Craddock and Nathan Cuckow's “gay rap opera.”

Almost entirely sung-through (or rapped-through, in this instance), Bash’d, narrated by T-Bag (Craddock) and Feminem (Cuckow), tells the story of young gay Canadian lovers Dillon (Cuckow) and Jack (Craddock). At just over an hour, what little plot there is has been padded with banal character background—Jack has two daddies who give him poppers and Ecstasy! Dillon’s father is a homophobe!—and a hilarious, spot-on look at the habitués of gay clubs that manages to be both the evening’s highlight and a total digression. One assumes it’s included in an effort to score laughs and teach heterosexual audience members a little something about gay culture; but surely only the most adventurous of straight theatergoers would attend a gay rap opera.

As soon as they strut onto the stage, Craddock (who bears an unfortunate resemblance to Divine, sans makeup) and Cuckow make it clear that not only will this be a show about the trials and joys of being gay, but they also intend to reclaim the world for queers everywhere.

That this is basically stated in the opening number, which involves more limp-wristed choreography than even Bob Fosse would have used, is one of the several problems that mar the well-intentioned and ultimately slight show. Over and over again, this game cast of two tells rather than shows, albeit in intricate lyrics delivered with the rat-a-tat-tat of machine-gun fire. And while the disparity between the frequently homophobic world of hip-hop and two men who chant “cocksuckers” over and over again is simultaneously funny and attention grabbing, Bash’d may have been better served if Craddock and Cuckow had cast flamingly gay actors instead.

Watching the beefy Craddock and the tall, solid Cuckow confront gay bashing and the paralyzing fears that accompany its aftermath doesn’t ring as true as two young twinks facing the same situations might have. Neither actor looks like someone anyone would want to pick a fight with, not even in their all-pink ensembles that include sweats and fedoras.

Not only would the gay bashing be more believable with slighter men, but watching them reclaim the word “faggot” while rapping about the delights of being young and gay would have strengthened the show. Because as laugh-out-loud funny—and, at times, touching—as Bash’d is (ignoring the ludicrous climax that involves the child-like voice of God), even at 60 minutes its one joke grows old long before the curtain call.

Open run. The Zipper Factory, 336 W. 47th St. (betw. 8th & 9th Aves.), 212-352-3101; $25–$55.